


Allein ist Besser

by ToniArkens



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cute brotherly shit, Gen, Germany is Holy Roman Empire, M/M, Slight GerIta, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-08 20:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4318944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToniArkens/pseuds/ToniArkens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In war, one can find himself torn between duty and morals. But what can they do when their only purpose is to obey orders, no matter how horrifying and vile they are? And how long can an older brother offer support in such emotionally trying times?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The breeze from the window, curtains reaching out to something unseen. Pale yellow walls being lit by the morning sun and warming the wooden floor. Were he in better condition, he’d have stood up in order to cherish the feeling. However, it took all he had in order to even sit up, standing wasn’t even an option.

 

“Hey, little shit. How’s it going?” When had the door opened? Attention moved over to the voice, looked over the now familiar figure. “Come on, give me something.”

 

Prussia watched the boy sitting in the bed, arrogant smirk disguising all that was cluttering his mind. The only reply he got was two words, said in a voice just above a whisper. “Nothing new.”

 

Dammit, that wasn’t his accent.

 

Taking a seat beside him, Prussia leaned back against the headboard, kicking up his feet without bother to take off his boots. “All right, then. If you can’t get anything on your own, we’ll see if we can drag it out of you.” Arms crossed over his chest, not daring to cease looking amused. “Ask anything you want, we’ll see if it helps.”

 

Did he really want it to? Was it worth the risk?

 

Ten seconds of silence. Fifteen. Finally, a question. And not one that Prussia had been anticipating. “You said because we’re countries… we’re immortal, right?”

 

He blinked a few times, thinking it over. “I guess if you want to call it that. But it’s not like we can’t die.” What the hell was he asking that for?

 

A small nod, a few more seconds of contemplation, and an explanation. “Doesn’t it get lonely? Especially if others don’t have a brother or sister? Or what about before I was born?” Were countries even born? Or did they just show up? To be honest, the entire thing confused him more than he could express. “What did you do then?”

 

Prussia stayed quiet for a moment. Thoughts drifted back, recalling tales from a child about a young girl.

 

“Well….” A deep breath, fingers running through his hair. “There’s this sort of free pass we get. We all get to choose something to stay with us. You remember that bird that was with me when you first woke up?” A positive reply. “I chose him. And you’ll get to choose yours. Then it’ll be the four of us, kicking ass from now till the end of time.” Ruffling the blonde hair, he moved to stand. “I’m getting a nurse to check out your wounds. Just take it easy, ja? You’re still pretty beat up, we don’t need you popping any stitches.”

 

Though the child said nothing, it was clear on his face that the thought of Prussia leaving didn’t sit well with him. “Tell you what.” Reaching under his shirt, he pulled out the cross necklace, removed it, put it around the neck of the other. “I’ve got another. You keep this one, that way you always know that your awesome big brother is here to make sure you’re safe.” Another ruffle of his hair. “It’ll be okay, West. Once you’re all healed up, we’ll go raise some hell.”

 

Only one glance was cast back, taking note of Germany looking over the pendant with a near ecstatic grin.

 

The moment the door was closed, that was when even more questions came. But not from Germany, not this time. “Do you think it’s a good idea? Lying to him?” One of the nurses held a look of pity. “If he ends up remembering--”

 

“Then he’ll be pissed off and never want to talk to me again. I get it.” Prussia kept his voice down, urging the others to do the same. “It’s for his own good.”

 

It was, wasn’t it?

 

“Even so, you need to think it through. You’re still a kid.”

 

“And here I am, still older than you.” He pushed past the two nurses before turning back. “The world thinks Holy Rome is dead, and that’s exactly what we want.” He continued speaking even as he headed down the hall. “Think of it as a really dedicated version of Witness Protection.”

 

Because brothers always protected each other.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The headcanon that countries can choose something to be immortal with came from Shane (Tumblr user invertedhavoc). Hope you don't mind me stealing it. Also, let's hope that the German is right. No promises there.


	2. Aufschub bringt Gefahr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were a number of rules that Germany followed. One: Always lock the doors. Two: Do the same with the windows. Three: Make sure that at least one dog was awake and alert at all times.
> 
> And four: Know that Prussia has a way of getting around all of this.

 

There were a number of rules that Germany followed. One: Always lock the doors. Two: Do the same with the windows. Three: Make sure that at least one dog was awake and alert at all times.

 

And four: Know that Prussia has a way of getting around all of this.

 

So when the sound of something rolling across the floor of the kitchen caught his ears, he was more irritated than surprised. Without looking up from the task at hand, he was able to catch the marble under his foot. “You could knock, you know.” Honestly, they weren’t children anymore. He wasn’t bedridden with no idea who he was. That had been centuries ago, there was no need to just show up uninvited.

 

Still lying on his stomach, Prussia sent another marble over. “Come on, have some fun once in a while.” Yet another marble. “That stick of yours is even further up your ass than usual.”

 

Germany glanced down at the marble which had been pinned under his shoe, knelt down, tossed it in the garbage bin. “I’ve had some things on my mind. Now why are you here?”

 

Okay, that was harsh, even for him. “It’s the letter you got the other day, isn’t it?” Finally getting to his feet, he brushed off his pants. Not that they really needed it, as the floor was near spotless. “New boss, huh? That’s always fun.” Leaning against the wall, he absent-mindedly used a finger to stroke the head of the bird which had popped its head out of his pocket.

 

“How the hell do you know about that?!” Oh, son of a bitch. “Have you been opening my mail again?!” Honestly, he thought that he’d have learned his lesson the last time. Prussia only shrugged. “I’m not a child anymore, I don’t need you checking up on me.”

 

“C’mon, West. You can’t blame me for being curious.” Heading over to the refrigerator, he began rifling through its contents. “I’m surprised you even got one of these things. Look at you, Germany’s actually keeping up with the times! Welcome to the 1930’s, Bruder!”

 

Okay, this was getting really old really fast. “Did you come here to comment on my kitchen, tell me that you’re still invading my privacy, or do you actually have some use here?”

 

Another shrug as Prussia sauntered over to him, clapping his brother on the back. “Just wishing you good luck, is all! New bosses are always a pain in the ass.” The grin faded a bit hardly a moment afterwards.

 

Granted, Germany wasn’t exactly one for smiling, but this was different. This wasn’t just neutral irritability. This was legitimate concern. “You don’t know the half of it.” More or less mumbled, never looking up.

 

“What’s the deal?” Only a touch of concern in his voice as he shifted his weight. "Is he an Arschloch or something?"

 

Right. Here it was. The question which had burrowed its way into his mind, constantly asking, constantly making him feel as though he would be sick. "...Can we outright disobey our orders?" The one thing he had never expected to have to say, the one thing he had never dreamed of saying.

 

It did, to say the least, take Prussia by surprise. "You're joking, right?" Try to act casual. "Orders are what you live off of, you probably rub one out every time you get an assignment! Now you're just--"

 

"Answer my question." Hands gripping the counter, eyes closed for just a moment. "What would happen if I were to ignore what he told me to do?"

 

One second of silence. Another. Four more after that. "I don't know." Dammit, he hated admitting that. "I don't ever know if anyone's done it before. I mean, he can't exactly kill you, not unless he ends up screwing himself over beforehand." Prussia sat himself on the counter, patted the spot next to him in an offer for Germany to sit beside him. This offer was declined. "What's up? And don't play stupid."

 

Rather than taking a seat, Germany leaned his back against the opposite wall. Prussia noted that there wasn't even a slight gesture indicating that he keep his ass off where food was going ot be prepared. Something was definitely wrong, then. "I've already met him." Arms crossed, gaze on the floor. "We talked for about an hour, and he... told me his plans." A deep breath. "It started off fine. He said we'd get back at France for everything he did after the war. But then he started spewing off all these ideas. Boycotts, outlawing trade unions, only one legal political party...." Don't mention the rest. Don't mention the worst. "There's more, but...." Germany only shook his head. "I've got a bad feeling about all of it." More than just a bad feeling. But best not to worry his brother.

 

Despite his intent, this clearly did worry his brother quite a bit. "What's the plan, then? I know a few guys who are pissed off at you, I'm sure they could pull off an assassination--"

 

"What? No!" Seriously, was he an idiot? "Absolutely not. The plan is to try and talk him out of it, or see if someone else can. We don't need any conflict, especially something as significant as a damn assassination attempt. The last thing we want is another war."

 

A slight rolling of his eyes. "All right, fine." Hopping off the counter, he began sauntering over to the door. "But remember what I told you when we were kids. If anyone messes with you, I'll kick their ass into the next century."

 

"Ja, ja." As though he couldn't take care of himself. "Just try not to annoy any of the dogs on your way out. I'd rather not have to clean up any blood today." A faint smirk of his own. "And by the way. When you say that, is Hungary also included? Because if I remember correctly, the ass kicking goes in a different direction when she's involved."

 

Two middle fingers were his only response before Prussia shut the door behind him.

 


	3. Dienst ist Dienst und Schnaps ist Schnaps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps he should have told him. Perhaps he should have explained just what those books were, just why their destruction had hit him as it did. But no, not now. Perhaps not ever.
> 
> Perhaps it was just a one-time circumstance that would never see the light of day again.

To think that so much could change in just over a year.

 

Did the rest of the world know of the horrors that were taking place within his borders? Or were they cleverly kept in the dark? Poland, he felt, at least had an idea. Why else would he have agreed to sign that pact? For him to actually acknowledge danger, and to actually do something about it, that had to be significant.

 

"He can't do that!" Germany was practically shouting, momentarily paying no mind to the potential threat it could cause.

 

A hand was over his mouth within an instant. "Would you shut up?!" Prussia's harsh whisper proved to be a stark contrast in volume. "Are you wanting someone to hear you?! Judging by what you just told me, there are a lot of people who wouldn't be too happy to hear you talking like that!" He pulled his hand away, leaned back in the chair. "You’re right, he shouldn’t be able to pull it off. But he did. And if you want to try and overthrow him, damn right, I’ll help out. But we’re going to need a solid plan first.”

 

Shaking his head, Germany studied his brother's ceiling instead of meeting his eyes. "We're not overthrowing the damn dictator."

 

"No, no, see, I have an idea. You and I pretend to be pissed off at each other, we declare war, I win--"

 

"What the hell kind of idea is that?!"

 

"Shut up, let me finish! So I say that I own you now, but decide that eh, I'm a nice guy, you can keep being your own country-- See, that saves your ass-- but the only condition is I get to pick who's in charge."

 

Germany was quiet for a moment. "That has got to be the worst excuse for a plan I've ever heard. And I told you, no one is overthrowing anyone."

 

"People are dying, West!" Sure not to be too loud. "I get you like to act all stone cold, but don't pretend that you don't care about that!" Surely he did? Surely he wasn't that malevolent?

 

Standing abruptly, Prussia got his answer. "Of course I do!" He shook his head, doing all he could to calm himself. "But let's say we go with your plan, and you lose. Then what happens to you?" Silence. "I'm going to work around all of this. He had eighty-five people killed, just because they threatened his power. And that's just how many we know of. He's not opposed to slaughtering people who have done nothing wrong, imagine what he would do if someone directly confronted him."

 

It was a good point, of course. But one thing still wouldn't let him be. "Why are you just telling me now? You said this happened last month, it didn't cross you mind, 'Hey, maybe Prussia should know about this'?"

 

"Circumstances are changing." Was that really the right term for it? Or was it just a roundabout way of not having to tell him everything.

 

Prussia leaned his head in his hands. "Holy--" He caught himself, covered the error. "Holy shit, West." This must have been affecting him more than he'd thought. He'd never come so close to slipping before. "You've been telling me national secrets for how long now? What's a few more? You afraid I'll turn you in or something? Come on."

 

Germany said nothing, only stepped in front of the window. For such dark topics being discussed, the sun seemed almost unnaturally bright. As though it were trying to tempt him, to tell him to leave morals behind and follow in the footsteps of his superiors without question. To be a good little soldier.

 

And it was only now that Prussia noticed the difference. His brother stood there rigid, always at attention. As though even now he was in training, prepared to give or receive orders at any moment. There was the man of the military, nothing else.

 

Whether or not he noticed Prussia slip out of the room, he couldn't say. He didn't move, didn't speak. It was only when he stood right next to him, holding out a bottle, did he so much as turn his head. "I think you need this."

 

Germany only shook his head. "Der betrunkene Mund zeigt die Herz Geheimnisse." It was always a saying he'd never paid much attention to, but for the moment, it was what he lived by.

 

Prussia only set the bottle on the windowsill, taking a drink from his own. "Then don't get drunk. Just relax enough to get this all off your mind for a while." Gaze followed his brother's, lingered on the scene before them. "I get if you don't want to blab about everything, but something's screwing you up. I'm going to find out one way or another, and personally, I'd rather it happen before you completely lose it."

 

He finally gave in, Germany cherishing the drink, its taste he had long ago convinced himself was pleasant. "It's nothing important." Wasn't it, though? "They burned some books, is all. I... had a sort of connection to them." That was one way of putting it.

 

There were a few seconds which could easily have been mistaken for empathy before Prussia became lost in hysterics. "That's what all this is about? Some stupid books?"

 

Germany shoved him a bit, a few drops of beer escaping the bottle and landing on the carpet. "Stop laughing!" Inconsiderate shit.

 

It took a second or two for the elder of the two to catch his breath. When he did, a hand rested on Germany's shoulder. "They're books, West. There's gotta be tons more copies out there. He can't burn them all. Hell, when this whole thing blows over, I'll buy them all for you if it upsets you that much."

 

A small noise of distaste escaped Germany's lips, once again choosing to focus only on the summer landscape just outside the glass. Perhaps he should have told him. Perhaps he should have explained just what those books were, just why their destruction had hit him as it did. But no, not now. Perhaps not ever.

 

Perhaps it was just a one-time circumstance that would never see the light of day again.

 

 


	4. Angriff is die beste Verteildigung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of this, it was so complicated. By doing nothing, people were being slaughtered daily. But if something was to be done, even more people would die. Was there no way around it? No way to spare those who deserved only to live their lives?

Of all the commanding officers, of course _he_ had to be the one to get this job.

 

No amount of "Yes, sir"'s, or "As you wish, commander"'s could distract from the reason he was there. From what was happening all around him. From the hateful gazes that were locked onto him as he walked by. From the knowledge that in their eyes, it was his fault that they were afraid, that they were hurting, that those they loved were dying and there was nothing they could do to save them. And dammit, he'd have saved them all if he could. Every single innocent, every single man, woman, and child whose only crime was having been born.

 

It was just past the one hour mark when Germany found himself on his knees over a toilet, bile burning in his throat. Dammit, why couldn't he pull himself together? He couldn't keep doing this, not if he wanted to maintain his own safety. To show weakness, to show that he was anything less than loyal, that could throw not only him, but a number of others into a whirlwind of unpleasant consequences.

 

"Rough day?" His attention snapped to the source of the voice, made note of the man standing behind him. "I know inspections suck, but this is a little extreme, don't you think?" Prussia's usual arrogant tone didn't falter, not for a moment. "Man, this is going to be a good journal entry. 'Found West spewing out his internal organs today.' Talk about a good opening line."

 

Germany looked him over, took in the uniform which was identical to his own. "How the hell did you get in here?" By this point, it was less astonishment, more exasperation. It was far from the first time this had happened, and he doubted that it would be the last. It had been a long six years since the uninvited letter reading which had sparked all of this, and 1940 wasn't looking to be much better than the current 1939. "You may have the hat, but someone's going to notice your eyes."

 

"Maybe," Leaning his shoulder against the wall, Prussia adjusted his jacket. "Or maybe they'll all be blinded by just how awesome I am. We'll have to see." Okay, time to be serious now. "This isn't your first time losing your lunch today, is it?"

 

Though he shook his head and sat with his back against the wall, Germany didn't even try to get up. "Third." Don't ask how he knew, it didn't matter.

 

Footsteps unusually light, Prussia took a seat across from him. "You know, you don't need to pretend I'm not involved in any of this." Germany only raised a brow. "It's like I said when we were kids." He reached forward and tapped the iron cross which was hung around Germany's neck, then did the same to his own. "I'm here to help you whether you want me to or not."

 

"Prussia, I've told you--"

 

"No, no, I get it. You're right about it not being a good idea to try and take this guy down, we both could end up in hell holes like this. But that doesn't mean you don't need me." Prussia removed his hat, revealing the hiding place for his bird, which promptly relocated to his shoulder. "Sure, heart-to-hearts aren't exactly our thing, but it's not like I can't help you sort out how you're going to deal with things. Like how you just got the order to beat the shit out of Poland. Or sorry, what's the code name? Fall Weiss?" For a moment, Germany was certain his heart had stopped. He was going to ask how he knew, but Prussia was already answering that for him. “Your boss decided he’s going to prepare for it over at my place. Not that I got a say in it.”

 

Well, this was news to him. Germany took off his own hat, running his fingers through his hair. "Italy somehow managed to push it back by a few days, but I doubt that will be enough time to call it off completely. He's not exactly exceedingly helpful." Far from it, actually. But even so, it wasn't as though he didn't enjoy him being around. Quite the opposite.

 

A slight nod, consideration mapped out over his features. "Not to pretend this all isn't awful," Was this the right course of action? Probably not, but too late now. "But Poland _is_ kind of a dick."

 

"I won't argue with that." Would anyone, really? "But that dick could end up starting a war with a lot of people who know that what's going on here is wrong, and that means even more innocent people die fighting."

 

Okay, that was a valid point.

 

All of this, it was so complicated. By doing nothing, people were being slaughtered daily. But if something was to be done, even more people would die. Was there no way around it? No way to spare those who deserved only to live their lives? He almost wished he had taken up Prussia's offer all those years ago, to wage that small, false war instead of the impending very large, very real one. Perhaps it would have been better. No, he was certain it would have been. But there was no going back. There was no saying if it even would have worked, and then where would they have been?

 

Prussia held his hand palm-up by his shoulder, his bird hopping onto its new perch. "Like I said. We don't have many options here. The only thing you can do is remember that you're not the one doing this. It's not your call. Even if it's just in your head, you're fighting it. You've just gotta remember that you've got people you're fighting for. Japan, Italy. And of course, the most important one." Finally standing, the bird was placed back on his head, hat being put over it.

 

Germany righted himself, as well, watching as the white hair was tucked out of sight. "Ja? And who might that be?"

 

Much to his distaste, Prussia ruffled his brother's hair before leaving, his answer coming just before he stepped out the door and pretty much negating all of the sentiment that had just been put out into the open. "Duh, me."

 


	5. Im Krieg und in der Liebe ist alles erlaubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It felt as though it would tear him apart at any moment. But this was for their own safety. Keeping this a secret was the only way to be sure that they didn't fall victim to that which they were being forced to fight for.

"Germany. Germany, are you awake?"

 

"I am now." Still half enveloped in sleep, he opened one eye, noting the mess of auburn hair before him. "What do you want?"

 

Italy grinned before climbing underneath the blanket. "You said to wake you up before I get in bed with you!" Not that this could really be considered a bed. But on the battlefield, you made do with what you had. Even if what you had was just one thin blanket each and a bag full of clothes rather than a pillow.

 

"You know, technically I said to ask, not just wake me up." Italy didn't respond to this, only curling up beside him. And perhaps ordinarily, there would have been protests. But as the winter months drew nearer, even Germany often struggled to find warmth. And Italy, he was so small. It was difficult to tell whether he was shaking from fear or the cold.

 

Tonight, however, the reason behind his trembling was obvious. Germany stood, grabbed the blanket Italy had foolishly left behind. He carefully laid it over the one it seemed they would be sharing, then instructed Italy to sit up for a moment. The bag was taken out from under his head, and from it he pulled one of his jackets. Yes, this was fairly thick, it would work well. With delicate hands, he draped it over Italy's shoulders, the size looking ridiculous on his lithe frame. "Better?" The question came just as he returned to the makeshift bed.

 

The usual smile still painting his lips, Italy moved closer to him. "Better."

 

It was rare that Italy actually opened his eyes enough for others to see them, but tonight, Germany caught sight of the the elusive brown irises. "Stars sure are pretty, aren't they, Germany?"

 

It took a moment for him to snap back from his thoughts. "Hmm?" He shook his head a bit to help him focus. "Right, ja." It was clear that his heart wasn't in it, but when had that ever stopped Italy before?

 

"Grandpa Rome used to tell us this story about those ones there." He pointed upwards, at two specific constellations. "He said that one of the gods fell in love with a really pretty girl, and they had a kid. But his wife got really jealous and turned the girl into a bear. Then when the kid was all grown up, he got turned into a bear, too, and the god threw them both up into the sky so they'd be safe."

 

The stars seemed to be brightest when in his eyes.

 

Without another word, Italy moved even closer, resting his head just above Germany's shoulder. Within minutes, his breaths became deep and even with sleep. It was nice, seeing him relax in a moment of peace. Not threatening the success of a mission, not frightened. Just resting, with no fear of what could be.

 

It was good that they were alone. If there were others around, then it was very possible that they would get the wrong idea. But after all, this was just a cultural difference.

 

Wasn't it?

 

No. No, of course it was. To think it anything else would have been ridiculous, not to mention illegal. Having a friend, it had softened him, allowed him to open up more. To accept that this was the way Italians showed friendship.

 

So then, why did it feel like something more? Something different?

 

Why could he perfectly imagine Italy's head resting on his chest, the peace of their hands gently entwining as they let the worries of the world fall away? Why did the thought of holding him fill him with such tranquility, such bliss? Why, when he first saw the pathetic excuse for a soldier, did he feel a strange sense of intrigue?

 

Why did being around him just feel _right_?

 

The image of a pink triangle broke him out of his thoughts. Stop thinking like that. No matter how strong it was, he couldn't allow it to take him. To do that would to put them both in a position that neither could ever escape from. And after having come so far, after discovering just how much Italy meant to him, there was no way he could dare risk that.

 

Hadn't Prussia told him once that as a child, back in the days he still couldn't remember, he'd fallen for a young girl? Surely that had to count for something? And he'd been attracted to women since then. And Italy, he never missed an opportunity to flirt, even if it was unsuccessful. So that assured their safety, didn't it? No one had to know about his affection, which he was certain was one-sided.

 

No one would suspect that the one who so terribly failed the raid on Greece was the person he wanted most by his side.

 

No one would consider that the man who was scared of his own shadow was the very man he longed to stay with until the end of time.

 

No one would know that he was in love with Italy Veneziano.

 

It felt as though it would tear him apart at any moment. But this was for their own safety. Keeping this a secret was the only way to be sure that they didn't fall victim to that which they were being forced to fight for. No one could be told, not even Prussia. No, _especially_ not Prussia. While Germany didn't doubt his loyalty, he wasn't exactly great at keeping things to himself. He spoke and acted before he thought, and it had gotten him in more trouble than he was worth.

 

And so Germany would go on like this. Keeping love in the shadows, either denying it until it no longer was, or waiting until he no longer had to.

 

When sleep finally overtook him, instead of the usual visions of death and horror, Germany dreampt of a child. A child in a green dress, who, when asked who they were, replied with but four words, said in an unusually cheerful tone. "I'm your worst nightmare!"

 

Somehow, he was certain it was the opposite.

 

 


	6. Es geht alles vorüber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoever they were, get them out. Get them medical attention, just save someone for a change. Start being the rescuer instead of the executioner. Start showing once again that he did value life. A few small, terrified noises could be made out, sounding like a young child. But-- No, not a child. Even without comprehensible words, he knew that voice.

"You there! See what ammunition we have that wasn't destroyed!"

 

"Yes, sir!"

 

"The rest of you, I want you out on patrol searching for survivors! Anyone who can be saved, bring them back here!"

 

It was chaos, pure and simple. Debris was quite near all that was left, making it difficult to walk and nearly impossible to see. Screams could be heard in the distance, suggesting that there were, in fact, people who had lived through this.

 

It would have been one thing if Britain had waged the attack only on him, or better yet, the one who was actually in charge of all of this. But for all these civilian casualties, was it truly worth it?

 

But then, perhaps what he himself had been ordered to do wasn't much better.

 

Through the cloud of dust and the crowd, Japan could be seen helping a woman out of what had once been her home, now no more than a pile of bricks and shattered concrete. No red stained the pure white of his uniform, suggesting that his injuries, assuming he had any, were minimal.

 

And yet, all was far from well.

 

Heart pounding, cloth over his face to help him breathe, Germany found himself climbing over the fresh battlefield. Barking orders, and demanding an answer to a single question. "Where is Italy?!"

 

It went on like this for what felt like hours, though he could not say for certain. Dammit, how many times had he told him not to run off? He was always glued to his side, why did he have to leave then of all times? Movement out of the corner of his eye. Not much, just a slight shift from beneath a now indiscernible structure. Without so much as a hesitation, Germany sprinted over, began moving away any of the stone fragments.

 

Whoever they were, get them out. Get them medical attention, just _save someone for a change_. Start being the rescuer instead of the executioner. Start showing once again that he did value life. A few small, terrified noises could be made out, sounding like a young child. But-- No, not a child. Even without comprehensible words, he knew that voice.

 

"Italy!" Was this relief or horror? Yes, Italy was alive, but he didn't seem to be in very good shape. A large beam had come down on top of him, leaving him on his back and unable to escape. The woman beside him hadn't been so lucky. "Italy look at me." Trying so hard to keep his voice calm. "Are you okay?"

 

For what was probably the first time in his life, Italy did not cry out in fear, did not beg to be saved. For this was a terror far beyond anything he had ever experienced before. He only nodded, movements short and frantic.

 

Germany placed his hand on Italy's chest in an attempt to comfort him. Even if just a little, it was better than nothing. "Eyes on me, do you understand? You're going to be okay, I'm not going to leave you."

 

Another nod, and a few more minutes of silence. Damn, where was everyone? There wasn't a single other person in the area?

 

This proved to be false very soon. "West!" Never before had he been so relieved to hear that voice.

 

"Prussia, go get help!" Germany looked back, saw his brother staring that them. "Now!" Orders were followed without a second more of delay. "Not much longer, and you'll be out. It's almost over." Another nod, Germany using his sleeve to wipe a small trail of blood off Italy's forehead. "Italy, listen to me." Speaking softly, sure that only the two of them would hear. "After you recover from this, I need you to do something for me. I need you to drop out of the war."

 

"What?!" Well, at least this confirmed that he could still speak. "Germany, I-- I know I'm not good at fighting, and I know I always get scared, and I know I peed a little that time in the tank when Russia attacked us, but I--"

 

Germany only shook his head. "Tranquillo! Ascoltami!" The foreign words felt strange on his tongue. Where had they even come from? He couldn't remember learning them. Either way, they did the job. "Everything we've been fighting for is wrong! I can't do this on my own, and the fewer allies I have, the sooner it will be over, and the sooner it's over means that fewer people die! I'm going to try and convince Japan to do the same, but he's more strict about honor. I'm not sure I'll be able to talk him into leaving." A deep breath as he gathered his thoughts. "Now there's a chance I may end up being ordered to attack you. If that happens, you run. You can't tell me you're not an expert at that. If you see me before this war is over, you run, and you never look back. If you don't, it won't just be you who will be in danger. It will be thousands more civilians, plus those you care about. Japan, France, your brother. By giving up, you're keeping all of them safe."

 

Not even the heat of summer could slow the makeshift relief team as the rushed over, Prussia leading them and shouting at them to move their asses already. Not long now. Only another minute or so before their time alone ran out.

 

Tears were falling freely down Italy's face now, some fading into pink from where they mingled with the blood. "But... We'll still be friends after, right?" The single question, said softly. As though he was afraid to hear the answer.

 

German dared to offer a small, sad smile. "Ja. Ja, of course." As though he would have stood for anything else.

 

A matching expression came across Italy's lips as he managed to get his hand out from under what had been part of the wall. He raised it up slightly, saying but two words. A request, which was granted only seconds before the small crowd of people began working to liberate him.

 

"Pinky swear?"

 

 


	7. Die besten Schwimmer ertrinken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not once did he allow that stern, stoic expression to fade, never did he allow himself to show just how much he had been longing to see this day. The same, if not more, than any of those he was looking at. Still a good distance away, but still able to see that they would not hesitate to shoot should he give them any reason to.

It had been a long time since Germany ran for a reason other than a battle.

 

Dew still lingered in the early May air, the sun having just come into sight over the horizon for the first time of the month. Perhaps he should have waited, but how could he? How could he possibly put it off another moment?

 

For once, it was not Prussia who was barging into Germany's home uninvited, but the other way around. Bolting into the bedroom, the bird sleeping on the perch in the corner was the first to notice, and let out a few small peeps to alert its owner that someone was there. Prussia, of course, was a notoriously heavy sleeper, so this proved amazingly unsuccessful. For whatever reason, all of the pillows were on the floor. Germany didn't hesitate to pick one up and throw it at the still unconscious form on the bed. "Get up."

 

It took two more tries before Prussia finally started awake. "Well, guten Morgan to you, too. This better be important, you ass."

 

Only two words served as an explanation, the two words that had been echoing in his mind the entire trip there. "He's dead."

 

That certainly got his attention. Prussia sat bolt upright, pure disbelief etched into his face. "You're joking." Germany couldn't help the grin that formed as he shook his head, Prussia's following suit. "Holy shit. Holy _shit_ , West!" Hands ran through his hair, as though it would help him process the news.

 

"They're considering my suggestion that we surrender within the week." It had taken some convincing, but it truly did seem that this would end up being the case.

 

Prussia all but flew to his feet at the news, somewhat recent scars decorating his skin from an attack at the end of the previous year. "Holy shit!" Again, these two words before he managed any more. "Look at you! Germany, sticking it out until the end! Who knew my baby brother would end up being almost as much of a badass as me!" Hands on either side of Germany's arms, neither had seen the other look so excited, so purely happy. As though nothing else mattered in the world. Because after all of this, it was going to be over. No more pretending to believe all the vile lies that were being whispered into their ears, no more watching innocent people suffer. "Just wait 'til you tell your little boyfriend."

 

Everything seemed to freeze in that moment. No, he couldn't have known. He'd been sure never to say a word about it.

 

"What, you thought I wouldn't figure it out?" Prussia only smirked as he turned to the bedside table and opened the drawer. "Please, I knew you were into guys even before you did." In his hand, he now held one of his various journals, which he must have been looking over the previous night, as it wasn't on a shelf with the others. "'October 28th, 1940. West found out Italy secretly planned an attack on Greece, then started flipping out about how he's going to get his ass kicked. Not even like he was annoyed. I really think he was worried about him.' 'November 10th. Italy somehow is only now retreating. West had to go bail him out.'" Flipping in the opposite direction now. "And if we go back, August 14, 1934. 'West mentioned today that his boss has been burning some books or something since last year, which seemed to make him pretty upset. Turns out they were all about gay people. Germany, of all people. Who would've thought?'" Another journal came out of the drawer. "Even before that. 'July 8th, 1916. West captured that Italy guy he's supposed to be fighting, but apparently he's a total pissbaby. Even so, West never shuts up about him. This should be interesting.'" The book was set down, Prussia only shrugging. "It's whatever, Brohas. I don't care what you do with your thing so long as it doesn't involve me."

 

They embraced for the first time since they were children that morning.

 

And it was on the seventh of May, 1945, that France practically broke down the door of where the Allies were having yet another late-night meeting.

 

It took but three words, just a simple exclamation of "Germany is outside!" for everyone to jump into action. Five people, five guns pointed out the single door of the former-schoolhouse-now-base, and the target in sight.

 

"You're sure that's him?" America somehow managed to keep his voice relatively quiet, his focus perhaps only on aim at the moment instead of being sure he was heard.

 

"No shit it's him." China only took eyes off of the figure to cast him a glance.

 

It was, oddly enough, Russia who first lowered his weapon. "What's that in his hand?" It couldn't be what it looked like. That would be impossible, wouldn't it? Completely unthinkable.

 

And yet, that white flag was a sight that no one could mistake.

 

Not once did he allow that stern, stoic expression to fade, never did he allow himself to show just how much he had been longing to see this day. The same, if not more, than any of those he was looking at. Still a good distance away, but still able to see that they would not hesitate to shoot should he give them any reason to.

 

Dropping the flag to the ground, Germany was sure to keep any movements slow and deliberate. Both hands raised by his head, eyes shut as he shouted just loud enough to be sure they heard. "Germany... does hereby surrender unconditionally to the Allied Powers."

 

A few seconds of silence, the words seeming to hang in the air. "No way...." Britain was hardly even aware that he was speaking.

 

The solemn moment was broken as America pushed past them all, insisting that he would get to be the one to take Germany in. He was, of course, followed by Britain and Russia to make sure that he didn't completely screw it up.

 

All his life, Germany had sworn that losing a war was the worst possible fate. And yet, as he was walked back by those who had been his enemies for so long, he couldn't help but feel as though he was somehow being liberated.  In this case, all the fighting was only just a battle. The real war, his war, had been internal. And in giving up, he had won.

 

"You understand the surrender terms imposed?"

 

"Yes."

 

"And they will be carried out?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Good." Britain slid a paper and a pen across the table. "Sign."

 

All eyes were on him, as though they were counting on this to be a trick. As though he would pull a gun out of nowhere and begin firing. But he was unarmed. And he took the pen, and he signed the agreement with trembling hands.

 

Five more signatures followed, and it was done.

 

That was it, then. Just six names on a piece of paper, and all of it was over. Well, almost all of it.

 

It was agreed that Germany would have to deal with serving France, Britain, America, and Russia-- China wasn't interested, instead opting for the more immediate choice of "Screw this, I'm going home"-- as payment, with his permanent fate determined later on.

 

In this time, he often found himself wondering if he would have to fear death in the near future.

 

For two years, this was all there was. Japan had eventually ceased fighting, as well, and peace was slowly preparing to show its face in the world once again.

 

And finally, the day came. To be on this side of the World Council, to be the one to be judged, it showed it all in a new light, brought back the memories of what he'd done. The things he had allowed to happen. Whatever they decided, he would not argue.

 

And yet, when he opened the door, the sight that greeted him was not what he had anticipated. For there was someone else there in shackles. And even from the back, there was no mistaking who it was.

 

Blue uniform.

 

White hair.

 

A bird on his shoulder.

 

"Hey, look who finally bothered showing up." Prussia turned his head to look at him, still somehow managing to look as though he thought he was in control of the room.

 

What the hell was going on? Germany found himself unable to speak, instead looking from his brother to those around him for answers.

 

Italy appeared to be desperately holding back tears, France and Romano on either side of him.

 

It was Poland of all people who finally stepped forward. And dammit, he looked bored as he read that which had been written out for him. "Due to the events which-- C'mon, Leit, do I really have to-- Fine. Due to the events which took place between the first of September, 1939 and the seventh of May, 1945, the fate of the Axis powers and their associates has been put into the hands of The Allied Control Council. After much debate and consideration, it has been decided that Prussia has been a bearer of militarism and reaction in Germany." What? No, they had it all wrong. "It is because of this that as of today, a resolution has been found." Say something, Germany. Interrupt. Explain everything. "With this, I hereby announce Königreich Preußen, the Kingdom of Prussia... is officially dissolved."

 

Heartbeat.

 

Heartbeat.

 

Beat.

 

Beat.

 

It had to be a dream. Just another nightmare. Prussia was doing all he could to hold himself together, but even from Germany's standpoint, it was clear that he was shaking, silently praying for forgiveness not only from God, but from his brother. That if they had yet to fall, tears were stinging in his eyes.

 

Germany's were already cascading down his face.

 

After all those glorious battles from so long ago, it had never crossed their minds even once that this day would come. It couldn't be. Over and over again in Germany's head, the same word. Nein.... Nein....

 

The slowness of time was broken only as Poland stepped back and Russia took his place. But his hand held something else. Not a speech, but a revolver. "No!" Someone tried to hold him back, but Germany broke free of their grip with no trouble. Clinging onto Prussia's sleeves as though it would save him, he didn't take his eyes off of the familiar crimson ones before him even as he addressed those around them. "Please, my actions were mine alone! The events you're claiming he influenced were already taking place before he offered his help! If you're so adamant on spilling blood today, then--"

 

"Germany." Prussia turned to face him, and though his hands were behind his back, nudged him with his shoulder as he spoke their native language in a voice that was smoother than it had ever been before. “Es ist in Ordnung, Westen.”

 

For the first time in centuries, it felt as though Germany was a child again, as though he was no more than the boy who had to be taught about the world, about who he was. “Nein, du Idiot…. Sei still…. Es ist nicht….”

 

“Du bist in Sicherheit?”

 

Germany nodded, breaths unsteady. “J-- Ja”

 

“Und..." Only a slight hesitation. "War ich ein guter Bruder?”

 

The answer to this was simple. “Ja….”

 

A pained smile, and Prussia, taking advantage of the fact that Germany was unable to stand up straight, leaned his forehead against his brother's. “Dann ist es in Ordnung.”

 

Russia cast an impatient glance over their shoulders, prompting three well-built men to once again drag Germany, quite literally kicking and screaming, backwards. The barrel of the gun rested at the base of Prussia's skull, which indicated that he sink to his knees. In his head, one final prayer.

 

_Blessed be God.... Blessed be His Holy Name...._

 

The voice in his ear was far too cheerful as it tried to interrupt. "You know, at first I suggested you just come live with me.”

 

_Blessed be Jesus Christ, true God and true Man...._

_Blessed be the Name of Jesus...._

 

"I kept telling them I'd take good care of you and keep you out of trouble.

 

_Blessed be His Most Sacred Heart...._

_Blessed be His Most Precious Blood...._

 

Germany screaming his name over and over again.

 

_Blessed be Jesus...._

_In the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar...._

 

"I really think you'd have liked it there, too."

 

_Blessed be the Holy Ghost, the Paraclete_

_Blessed be the great Mother of Christ, Mary most Holy_

 

"Sure it's cold, but it's really nice!"

 

_Blessed be her Holy and Immaculate Conception...._

_Blessed be her Glorious Assumption...._

 

"But now that I see just how scared and tiny this makes you, I'm glad we chose this instead!"

 

_Blessed be the Name of Mary, Virgin and Mother...._

_Blessed be St. Joseph, her most chaste spouse...._

 

They were struggling to hold Germany back now.

 

_Blessed be God in His Angels and in His Saints...._

 

"So I guess now it's all a matter of if you have anything left to say. I'll give you a good thirty seconds."

 

Opening his eyes, he scanned the room. Everyone watching him, Germany still screaming, begging for them to let him go, insisting that he'd done nothing wrong. They were really going to make him watch, weren't they?

 

The silence dragged on until everyone was certain that he would say nothing. But at the very last second, a wide, smug grin crossed his features as he shouted but two words. "Later, losers!"

 

He'd hardly finished when the shot came.

 

After that, there was nothing. Not even Germany made a sound for what felt like an eternity. The moment he was released, he sprinted forward on legs that threatened to give out at any moment. No, no, no, no. This couldn't be real. It was all an elaborate joke meant to humiliate him.

 

And yet, he sat there sobbing, holding his brother's limp form close to his chest, the small yellow bird lightly pecking at his ear to try and wake him.

 


	8. Epilogue

The thing about death was that it was instant.

One moment he was awake, the next, darkness and silence. But that wasn't it.

An attempt to open his eyes ended with him having to shut them due to the sudden influx of light. Slowly, he became aware of his body, of the fact that there was no pain.

No, wait, there it was.

Dammit, he wasn't supposed to be in pain when he was dead. Unless.... Was this Hell? Shit. He hadn't _meant_ to grope Hungary that time, and he apologized after, too. Unless they counted everything that had happened in the war. But that hadn't been his fault, either.

Actually, thinking about it, this didn't hurt nearly as bad as one would expect Hell to.

A soft curse escaped his lips as the ache in the back of his head hit a new high. "Prussia?" Who the hell? He forced his eyes open upon hearing his name, vision eventually focusing on his surroundings--The breeze from the window, curtains reaching out to something unseen. Pale yellow walls being lit by the morning sun and warming the wooden floor-- and the man in the chair in the corner.

"West...?" Voice rough from disuse, throat burning.

Without wasting a moment, Germany dropped his book to the floor and rushed over. "Try not to move much. You're still recovering." He took a seat on the side of the bed, a faint smile coming forth to reassure him.

Recovering... from what...? The memory hit him in an instant, hand flying to where the pain was coming from. This proved not to be a great idea, the bandage not absorbing any of the agony that resulted from the touch. "That asshole shot me in the friggin head!"

Hold on.

"With this, I hereby announce Königreich Preußen, the Kingdom of Prussia... is officially dissolved."

That had been a death sentence. He wasn't a country anymore. They had taken his immortality before executing him. And yet, there he was, very much alive. "How...?"

As though it wanted to help answer, a bit of movement came from Germany's pocket. The bird hopped over to its rightful owner's chest, making a few sounds almost to welcome him back. "I got a tip from my big brother when we were kids. I was saving my free pass for when it counted."

Because brothers always protected each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was pretty short, I'll admit. But I kinda felt like making it much longer would have taken away from it, you know?
> 
> Anyway, hope you liked it~ I tried to be historically accurate, but who knows how well I did.


End file.
